


Hope in the Air

by HolyNyx



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:18:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyNyx/pseuds/HolyNyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a bouquet of flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> Mirandy Week. Day 3. Vulnerable.

_Waking up every day and loving someone who may or may not love us back, whose safety we can't ensure, who may stay in our lives or may leave without a moment's notice, who may be loyal to the day they die or betray us tomorrow   ̶ that's vulnerability.  
_

_̶  Brené Brown_

* * *

 

It starts with a bouquet of flowers.

Andrea finally gives in to the gnawing feeling of guilt that has only been festering ever since she turned her back on Miranda in Paris, threw her company cell phone in a fountain, and left her with a note written on a piece of hotel stationary. Words that continue to mock her to this day.

_Miranda,_

_Not everyone wants to be you._

_A temporary assistant from the Paris branch will take over for me._

_A. Sachs_

She knows it was wrong to just up and leave like that. But she was so angry. Andrea still remembers feeling righteous in her anger and it wasn’t until she was somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean on her flight back home that she realized she may have just made one of biggest mistakes of her life. She remembers the panic attack that had taken over as soon as she shut the door to that tiny little bathroom. Thoughts of being blacklisted and having to move back to Ohio and live with her parents were her immediate concern. Then her rational mind started to kick in. _Oh god, what have I done?_ Miranda, who was so vulnerable the night before, worrying about her daughters and sharing her fears. Miranda, whose husband that had faxed the fucking divorce papers and hid behind an ocean like a coward. Miranda, who found out that she was about to lose everything that she had worked so hard for, sacrificed so many things for and would do absolutely anything to keep it. _You, who left a note containing less than twenty-five words, like a coward._ _And you left her, you left Miranda._ It was a horrible feeling, something she wouldn’t even wish on her greatest enemy.

_Because you are in love with her._

So, here she is three months later researching the different meanings of various flowers on the internet. She knows this is a long shot but she needs to let Miranda know that she’s sorry and she deeply regrets the way in which she left, and so much more. The next day Andrea finds the nearest flower shop and has a bouquet of purple hyacinths hand delivered to Miranda’s office at Elias-Clark. She remembers Miranda being well versed in the language of flowers so Andrea isn't sure if she should have a message delivered as well but she decides to go with her gut and take a chance and pray that it doesn't backfire on her. It’s no secret to New York City that Stephen has filed for a divorce; Andrea wouldn't be surprised if the entirety of the East Coast knows about it, it’s a hot topic and the press is brutal, this is Miranda's third divorce and she’s being blamed, once again. The media seems intent on destroying her reputation with false accusations from unreliable sources and it makes Andrea sick to her stomach that she’s in the same business as the people who write these stories. So she purchases a book of Maya Angelou’s poems to be sent alongside the bouquet of flowers and book marks the page that she wants Miranda to read. It’s one of her favorites and something that has helped her in the past and can only hope it will give Miranda some degree of comfort.

_You may write me down in history_  
_With your bitter, twisted lies,_  
_You may trod me in the very dirt_  
_But still, like dust, I'll rise._

_Does my sassiness upset you?_  
_Why are you beset with gloom?_  
_'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells_  
_Pumping in my living room._

_Just like moons and like suns,_  
_With the certainty of tides,_  
_Just like hopes springing high,_  
_Still I'll rise._

She spends the rest of the day at work desperately trying to stay focused on the article that needs to be finished by the time she leaves and not on whether Miranda threw the flowers in the nearest trash bin as soon as she got them and was told who they were from.

She barely sleeps that night.

A week goes by and she’s pretty much resigned to that fact that Miranda obviously won’t be replying, which is fine, she tells herself. She wasn't expecting anything in return, just to let Miranda know that she’s here, that she cares, and she's sorry. By the time her lunch break rolls around she’s almost managed to convince herself that it’s okay and that she’s 100 percent fine. She absolutely does not feel like locking herself in one of the bathroom stalls and bursting into tears. The ringing of her phone abruptly pulls her out of her thoughts.

She picks it up grateful for the distraction, “Andy Sachs.”

“Hey Andy, you've got a delivery here at the front desk.”

“Yeah? Give me a few minutes to let me save everything, then I’ll pick it up.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks.” Andrea hangs up the phone and starts to make sure everything is saved and backed up. After locking her computer she makes her way to the reception area and has to restrain herself not to break out into a full sprint just to see if it’s something from Miranda. As she nears the front desk she feels her heart start to beat faster when she notices a bouquet of flowers.

“Hey Emma, those for me?”

_“_ Yep,” Emma said with a teasing smile, “Got a secret boyfriend you want to tell me about? These look pretty expensive.”

“Funny,” Was her deadpan response, “And no, there is no boyfriend. I have no idea who they’re from.” She can only hope. Andy frowns when she can’t immediately see the little white card that usually accompanies a bouquet.

“Well somebody obviously cares for you.” Emma said.

“Doubt it.” Andrea mumbled under her breath. She was still trying to find the card. _Ah, there it is._

She picks up the flowers and starts to head back to her desk, “Thanks Emma. Drinks soon?” She calls out over her shoulder.

“Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there!”

As soon as she gets back to her assigned area she places the bouquet of dark pink blooming roses on her desk and opens up the little envelope, pulls out the piece of stationary and notices the scent that floated out with the tiny card. It’s a familiar smell, one that she would recognize anywhere because Miranda has her perfume customized specifically for her. She brings the paper up to her nose. The thought of Miranda spritzing this card with her scent brings a blush to her cheeks. Andrea quickly looks around to see if anyone noticed and sighs in relief when the coast is clear. The card only has two words written on it but it’s something Miranda has only said to her twice; _Thank you_. She quickly fires up her computer and brings up Google to search what the dark pink rose signifies.

_A single dark pink rose says thank you._ She continues scrolling down the site when see notices something else. _A bouquet of mature blooms signifies gratitude from the sender._ A warm feeling starts to expand in her chest. Andrea smiles to herself in relief. She wasn't being ignored or rejected.

On her way home she stops by a used book store to pick up a book on flowers and their meanings and a couple of days later when she’s on her lunch break she heads back over to the same flower shop where she bought the hyacinths and places an order for a bouquet of pink and white camellias. Andrea didn't realize how much thought one has to put into buying flowers. It’s incredibly revealing and she can’t help but feel vulnerable. What will Miranda do? Does she even feel the same way? She remembers the last couple of months working at Runway. There seemed to by an invisible energy that was always surrounding them. Twining around their bodies and keeping them aware of each other. Lingering looks and light touches when nobody else was looking. Sharing an elevator and Miranda letting Andrea help take off and put on her coat instead of just flinging it at her desk.

And that’s how whatever this is started. Andrea isn't sure what to call it. Mutual courting from afar? She snorts to herself and shakes her head. No. More like long distance dating even though they live in the same city. They don’t see each other in person, not even in passing. No phone calls either. It’s all by courier.

The first couple of weeks stay the same. Flowers with hidden meanings. Poems she hopes will make Miranda smile. Excerpts from her favorite classic novels. Occasionally she’ll send Miranda’s favorite chocolate, at least she hopes it’s her favorite. She once saw a Ghirardelli wrapper in Miranda’s trash can and she took a wild guess. The press coverage of Miranda's divorce took another turn as well. It turns out that Stephen was carrying on an affair with the wife of his business partner. She wants to find him and punch him in the mouth. And also reluctantly thank him because the paparazzi have shifted their focus off of Miranda and her girls and onto Stephen. Karma is a beautiful thing to witness.

It isn't until Miranda gives her the name and location of some hole in the wall bistro with specific instructions to try the grilled cheese sandwich (which she has no idea how Miranda even knows of her love for grilled cheese) does she change the rules of the game. Instead of sending flowers that week she sends an e-mail. Not terribly long, just to thank her for the best grilled cheese she’s ever had and inquiring about how things are. They now e-mail back and forth daily. Asking personal questions and favorite things, getting to know each other on a deeper level.

Andrea ponders one night while lying in bed about how incredibly easier it is this way, to have this electronic barrier separating them. Divulging her hopes, her dreams and her fears over an e-mail instead of looking into Miranda’s eyes. There’s the sense of anticipation that’s building and only getting stronger each and every time she sees Miranda’s personal e-mail address on her screen. It means that one day she’ll finally get to see Miranda again, to hug her, kiss her, and make love to her. To stay up all night gazing into each other’s eyes and talk about anything and everything that comes to mind. The problem is finally gathering up the courage to break that barrier. She knows Miranda won’t be the one to make the call and she understands. Her divorce isn't final yet, she’s got Caroline and Cassidy to worry about, and she has no doubt that Irv Ravitz is already plotting away with revenge in mind. So it’s up to Andrea. Just a little longer, she thinks. The e-mails continue for the next 4 months.

She never stops sending flowers though.

Before she knows it a year has flown by. One year of only seeing Miranda in pictures. Of sending flowers and e-mails. Sometimes she’ll see a silver Mercedes in passing and wonder if Miranda is in the back seat. The day that the divorce is finalized is the day that Andrea decides to break that electronic barrier that’s been more of a hindrance as of late. Cassidy and Caroline are at their father’s house for the weekend and she knows Miranda has no work function or gala to attend. She’s fucking terrified. Tonight she’ll completely open up her heart in front of the woman that she loves. She hopes her love will be accepted because there’s still a lingering feeling of doubt that’s clouding everything. What if Miranda doesn't want this anymore? Andrea’s mind stumbles to a halt at that. _Let’s just hope that it doesn't come down to that._  She’s at the same flower shop that she’s pretty much kept in business all of these months or that’s what it feels like. Andrea sees the older woman who owns the store watering some plants and gives her a little wave. She’s only buying one flower tonight, a red rose.

After grabbing a cab and giving the man Miranda’s address she sits back and spends the ride to the Upper East Side trying not to hyperventilate and constantly wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. Fifteen minutes later the car comes to a stop in front of the townhouse. _It’s now or never._ She pays the man and with a deep breath, opens the door and makes her way up the steps. She’s so nervous. _Oh god, please don’t get sick._ She closes her eyes and just breathes the night air for a few moments, remembers every single word Miranda has written to her and opens her eyes. Andrea knocks three times and holds her breath. She only has to wait a couple of seconds before the door finally opens. Miranda looks completely surprised. _Good_. She doesn't know how long they spend just staring at each other but Miranda is absolutely breathtaking. Andrea takes a tiny step forward.

“Hey,” It comes out shaky but she ignores how nervous she is and continues. Miranda is looking at her with tenderness in her eyes. Andrea holds up the rose and takes a step closer. “This is for you.” She says with a hopeful smile. It probably comes off as goofy and lopsided though. Oh well.

Miranda bites her lip and grazes your fingers as she takes the rose. She brings it up to her nose to smell while never breaking eye contact.

“This is a lovely surprise.” Miranda says softly.

Andrea gives a little shrug. “I wanted to see you,” she pauses for a moment and licks her lips, “I needed to see you.” She stresses.

Miranda regards you for a couple of seconds before finally opening the door wider to let you in. You haven’t been this close to Miranda in so long.

“I’m sorry for just inviting myself over without at least calling you first but I need you know how I feel,” Andrea makes sure to look Miranda in the eye, “I need you to understand how much I care about you,” Her voice is shaky but she continues. She steps closer to Miranda who looks flushed, “I need you know how much I Io-" Andrea automatically stops talking when she feels Miranda’s hand rest on the nape of her neck.

“Andrea.” Miranda breathes out. She gasps because with that single word Miranda somehow managed to convey so many emotions at once. Longing. Fondness. Love. Anticipation. Her silent musing is interrupted by the softest pair of lips she’s ever kissed. It’s tentative and so very gentle. With just a hint of tongue. Andrea brings Miranda’s body up against her own and deepens the kiss. She kisses the bottom lip and then moves to the top. Gives a little nip which makes Miranda whimper. Andrea runs her tongue softly against Miranda’s lower lip and is welcomed in. Their tongues touch softly at first, getting used to each other before Miranda eventually takes control of the kiss and it turns sensual and passionate.

Andrea breaks the kiss to get some air into her lungs while she just looks at Miranda in disbelief. Miranda just gives her a tender smile and cups her cheek.

“I know, Andrea.”

“Yeah?” She can feel tears of relief flooding her eyes and tries her best to blink them back.

Miranda keeps softly caressing her cheek, “Mm. I love you as well.” Andy feels her knees go weak at this. She grabs onto Miranda and breathless laughter echoes around the foyer.

“Thank God.” Andy says before she brings her lips back to Miranda’s. She suddenly remembers something Miranda once said to her in Paris. _I had hope. My God. I live on it._

* * *

 

_Did you want to see me broken?_  
_Bowed head and lowered eyes?_  
_Shoulders falling down like teardrops._  
_Weakened by my soulful cries._

_Does my haughtiness offend you?_  
_Don't you take it awful hard_  
_'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines_  
_Diggin' in my own back yard._

_You may shoot me with your words,_  
_You may cut me with your eyes,_  
_You may kill me with your hatefulness,_  
_But still, like air, I'll rise._

_Does my sexiness upset you?_  
_Does it come as a surprise_  
_That I dance like I've got diamonds_  
_At the meeting of my thighs?_

_Out of the huts of history's shame_  
_I rise_  
_Up from a past that's rooted in pain_  
_I rise_  
_I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,_  
_Welling and swelling I bear in the tide._  
_Leaving behind nights of terror and fear_  
_I rise_  
_Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear_  
_I rise_  
_Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,_  
_I am the dream and the hope of the slave._  
_I rise_  
_I rise_  
_I rise._

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine.


End file.
